Misconceptions
by LovelyLivy
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like this. It was just a job. Emotions meant nothing. But it wasn't. And, really, how could it be? When it came to this. To him. M. Allison Hart/Gibbs. Please R&R.
1. Of Reflections and Boring Days

**Hello! Back from my rather unexpected and weakly excused hiatus, I'll just say my IPhone AND computer were both being stupid. This is M. Alison Hart/Gibbs, which though I couldn't get it out of my head, was hesitant to post due to the fact a large majority of you people hate her with a fiery passion. Though it's understandable (My heart still lies with Jibbs, regardless), I ask you not to review saying how UNcompatible they are. I disagree. Enough said? I think so. **

**If this just plain sucks, however, I am open to constructive criticism, and please keep in mind I'm only a 7th grader. This was originally only a one shot, but instead I've made it kind of a short story, as it will only have (maybe?) five chapters. I'm finished talking your ears off now...so...hope you like it! :) And if you do? Review...please? It'll make my day!**

**I don't own NCIS, quite obviously, I'm not even old enough to possess a worker's permit, much to my dismay...;)**

* * *

I drummed my manicured nails against the white granite counter top in a fast rhythm and read another beauty product label, the black letters blurring together. My tangled hair fell into my eyes once again and I looked up at my reflection numbly. Bloodshot ice blue stared back. The lighting didn't necessarily _compliment _my already pale tone, and with the dark rings and the hair, I almost looked like a ghost. Like the dead. Wouldn't be much of a difference for him.

More bitter thoughts came but became hazy as my stomach heaved quite suddenly, and I found myself stumbling a few feet to the toilet.

After I was done being sick for that moment in time, I felt myself trudge back into my carpeted bedroom where the object of my sickness and the last ten minutes (or the rest of my life, depending on the results) lie. My heart gave a little tug I'd never felt before as I thought of the outcomes the test might bring. Both were good nor bad.

But then, how could it be? When it came to such matters as this.

For a moment, just a moment, I closed my eyes despite my throbbing headache, and wondered humorlessly what the hell I did to deserve it.

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

"Ms. Hart?" My secretary's voice sounded through the old speakers, and I winced a little.

"Yes, Judy? And again, it's Allison."

Today hadn't been a busy day...well, not really a busy week, actually. But in this economy it was rather expected.

"What?"

I sighed. "Never mind. What did you say you needed?"

"Are you busy?"

A case? Hell, a divorce would be nice right now, and that was saying something coming from me considering how much I hated them. They made money though, so unless I learned how to become a billionaire without really trying...

"There's a man here...he, uh, wants to see you?"

I stood up and walked towards the door, peeking through the small mini-blinds that separated by office from the waiting area. Sure enough, a man stood there, broad shouldered and built, wearing a light colored suit. He carried a briefcase in his hand, his black hair not disheveled in the slightest. He stood facing away from me, quietly conversing with Judy. He looked...charming...and Judy definitely thought that.

Come on Ali...Where did you meet him?

My hands fumbled with the doorknob and I made a mental note to have maintenance ( a couple of illegals) tape it up when they could The budget was so hard-pressed right now but...

"Oh, here she is!" Judy sounded slightly disappointed...that I was interrupting them, would be my best bet.

"Ms. Hart!" The man turned towards me slightly, and I did well to hide the shock that crossed my face. He was definitely...attractive.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you, I've come to First Offense to ask about taking a...special client, a friend of mine, actually, who's in a bit of trouble." His voice sounded so warm, so welcoming, so...safe. But I wasn't fooled that easily.

"What kind of trouble?"

He hesitated, as if choosing each word very, very carefully.

"Well...we'll go into the specifics in private, shall we?" He glanced briefly at my secretary.

"Of course, but excuse me, I didn't catch your name?" My eyebrows furrowed slightly as he offered me his hand, such pleasantries weren't exactly what I usually got in this job position.

"Alejandro Rivera."

My eyes widened a bit as he accented his words. I took his hand and I shook firmly, not knowing that this moment would be the breaking and the rebuilding of my life.


	2. Of Regrets and Emotional Ties

**This update was WAY quicker than it will usually ever be. Call it boredom and a need for angst. Just a little piece of info. ahead of time; this chapter was NOT meant to offend anyone of the Catholic religion. No, I promise I'm not saying all Catholic families have like eight kids and a cheating dad and a stay at home, abused mom. I know nothing. Please don't review with hate messages about that one. Also, it would help me out SO much if someone could PLEASE tell me how to make this a little less far-fetched, cuz I feel like it is. Sorry if I get the whole scholarship/law firm assistant thingie wrong, again, I know nothing. Like, dislike, it all comes down to REVIEWING. So, please? Please! Make a little girl's dreams come true! lol. JKJK. :)**

**No, I do not own NCIS...if I did...well let's just say the end of Masquerade would not have faded to blackness...grrr...I hated it! lol. **

* * *

When I was just a little girl, I didn't want to be a lawyer. It wasn't...expected, rather. My family was traditional...and Catholic. I had three brothers, all who became doctors or dentists and had their own little perfect families now, and two sisters, both older than me, who were now just like my mother, carrying out the domestic tasks they were expected to. Expected was a power word in our family.

Mom was 'the perfect wife'. Always listening, never speaking, always turning the other cheek to my father's infidelity, and taking his emotional abuse with no protest. She was the woman to ask what time, but not ask where, or why. To my siblings and I, she was more of a maid than a role model. And my sisters and I, it was expected that we were to be like her when we grew up.

Which is where I, the youngest daughter, shocked them all. I wasn't rebellious, no. I was top of my class, received the most prestigious awards, and won the state championship with the school debate team. I ran for student class president, and won. My mother and father, they didn't know what to say. My sisters (and brothers, if we're being honest), weren't like me. Lily, my eldest sister, was average, really, quite, and is now firmly hidden behind her husband who is a businessman.

Anne, second to oldest, was just the same. My father, in one of his rare moments of humor, joked rather rudely that maybe I was so different because they had gone the unconventional route with my birth, Cesarean, to save my mother some pain. He said the word 'different' like it was an infectious disease, and though I'd never tell anyone, those words hurt me more than all the years of emotional abuse.

So for me to become something, a defense attorney, no less, was unheard of and looked down upon greatly. I argued against men for a living, how could my father, in all his chauvinism, not turn red with anger?

The start of his disowning was when I started asking about colleges. I was a woman, college wasn't an option. Upon his saying no, I did, in fact, disregard his opinion, and applied for as many scholarships as were possible. With hard work, I got a full ride to the local college and planned on taking it the fall semester after high school. That angered my father.

I remember his face as I told him. His fists clenched tightly and sweat beaded on his forehead that was wrinkled with rage. For a moment I worried for his health. But then he stood, abruptly, to his full height, strode purposefully across the room to where I was standing, and told me I was not going to college for any reason whatsoever. I told him no.

He slapped me.

Everything went in slow motion. My whole body rippled with the impact and I think I just stood there for a moment, mouth slightly agape, hardly being able to process the action let alone the meaning. I asked a friend to help me move my things, and I was practically homeless the next day. I got a job at a local law firm, just as a legal assistant. It got me money to eat and to live in the crummiest apartments their were while I was going to school, and that was enough.

My job is what influenced my decision to become an attorney. I learned quickly that DA's made more money, and at the time, I was in awe of the amounts possible. But being a DA didn't mean I could start out picking out each and every case I wanted. I started out at the bottom of the chain. The cases made me sick...a rapist...a murderer...and in the end it was my job to defend their disgusting actions to the best of my ability.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't change me.

And in all honesty, I do have regret in the career choice. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I had not resisted to my father's firm hand. Would I be like my sisters? Have a baby boy that loves me and a husband to kiss when I came home? Well, one of those was a definite possibility at this point in time.

My father got what was coming to him though. A few years ago, I got a call saying he'd had a massive heart attack and died on the spot while with a few of his buddies at a local strip club.

I went to the funeral to offer condolences to my mother and siblings. Regardless of his actions just moments before death, they still cried. Sometimes the rotten scum who I defended made more sense than my own family. He left me out of the will, which didn't make me upset or relieved. Now that he's dead, I visit my mother's retirement home in Santa Barbara on holidays, and send my sister's cards on their birthdays.

They go on their relatively normal, peaceful lives, while I lie on my bed in my one bedroom flat, 36 years old, single, and possibly pregnant by a man who has more divorces under his belt than most families have cars. And he's fifteen years my senior.

I can almost hear my father laughing, his words ringing in my ears like bells.

I told you so, Margaret Allison!

* * *

"Sir,-"

"Alejandro, please, Ms. Hart."

"I do not understand why you are asking _me _to do this. Bell is free. Yes, I understand that this Gibbs guy is a bastard, but it a dangerous action you are taking to pursue him and his, his _team, _for vengeance!" I ground out the words, frustrated. How far would they take this?

"Ms. Hart, we are not asking you to _hunt him like a pig,_ we are simply asking you to, ah, _observe _him. Gather information. Become his friend. It is all for the greater good." He smiled a tight smile, and as his eyes met mine, I realized with sharp clarity that this man would be forceful in his ways of persuasion if I refused. He was like my father.

Seeing reluctance shadow my face for just a moment, he changed his tactics.

"He puts the wrong man away all the time. He sentences the man to _death _when it is not his place!" Rivera's nostrils flared momentarily and for some reason I got the vibe this was much more personal than Bell. I was smart to remain quiet.

"Money, is it money you want, _Allison?_"

Again, I knew. I knew as soon as the words had left his mouth like venom. He knew. About my past. About me. He had knowledge of my personal life. And knowledge was power.

My shoulders were tense and my heart felt a thousand pounds as I drove my small car home that night, my final words pounding in my ears, the finality terrifying.

"_I'll do it."_

I knew I'd regret everything.


	3. Of Resolutions and Conversation Clips

**So, I want reviews. lol. Please? I have this project in Drama where you have to pick a person in history and write a monologue in the first person about their life and make a trifold board to go with it. Then we perform it in classrooms around our school. Long story short, I was sick for 3 days and haven't even started...and it's due next Friday...FML. Me and my politically involved mind got Hillary Clinton...oh freggin' joy. I asked my teacher if I could bring up how 'I' stole stuff from the White House and was involved in trying to create the National Health Care Reform bill...trying to ruin everybody's lives...yeah, she vetoed that one on the spot! Party pooper...lol. I wish I would've gotten Sarah Palin, but she was 'too recent', and there was 'too much controversy' involving her. I outta show that woman controversy. ;) And it wouldn't have felt like I was faking it and trying to make an ice queen with too much botox look like an angel with too much botox. Oh, well...at least I didn't get Nancy Palosi! HAHAHA...:) OKAY OKAY...the twelve year old is done ranting now! Anyway...please review and tell me if by some chance you like this. It'll make moi's day! And tips on how to make my project more enjoyable even though I feel like I'm going to be impersonating the devil would be greatly appreciated too. You would be helping my Democratic Lit. teacher out too...the conversations we have...lololol. :) **

**Livi**

* * *

Have you ever felt like you could just run? Stop whatever you were doing and sprint down the street, earphones blaring music in eardrums and breath tumbling from body in quick spurts? I felt like that when he found out.

His team. His family. His life. I put them in danger because I was afraid of the implications my past would get me. I made a decision, and I screwed up. And I'm so sorry for that.

Fairytale endings would never come for me, I knew, and so I made my reality as clear and pure as I possibly could. And that meant hurting him.

When I took the job, I didn't realize it would cause me more problems than I already had started. And Leroy Jethro Gibbs was both the best and the tragedy of my life.

This was a job...emotions meant nothing...he meant nothing...and the fact of the matter was, it wasn't true anymore. He became a beautiful mistake to me, and I became a regret and a cold-hearted harpy to him.

He cost me everything. And I almost did the same to him. If he hadn't done what was right or taken matters into his own hands a long time ago none of this would have ever happened. And is it so selfish of me to not believe my own words?

He has changed me. Like my job, it would be a lie if I said otherwise, because he has. He had passion, strife, and loyalty. He built a family when his was destroyed. He taught me how to do what was right. He can never be a regret, a sign of weakness, no, because he is so much more than just a bump in the road.

He was my fatal flaw. Pick any other man who's life I could be sent to infiltrate and I would not have failed. And to add onto the excellent moral values, he was attractive. Silver hair, laugh lines, weathered hands. Most would find him unconventional as far as attraction of 34 year-old. I saw what most couldn't see.

His eyes. Blue. Study them long enough, and they change shades depending on his mood. They are clear and beautiful when he is content. Have a sparkle when he is amused. Turn icy when he is angry or dull when he does not want to show emotion. And dark, dark, cobalt when he is aroused, we can't forget that.

His smile. It's big, and bright, and, dare I say, cheesy. Not like Rivera's evil grin that reminds me humorlessly of my childhood hairless cat or my father's tight-lipped smirk. In combination with his eyes, it's a sight to see.

I ponder lightly if ,(if there is one), our child will look like him.

And then his eyes, flashing full of betrayal and upset cloud my subconscious. He couldn't even look at me. Me, realizing, that there was never any real trust. And knowing that was for the best.

The two minute prior alarm, dings shrilly, and with it a hollow feeling finds its way to my stomach. By now, my heart must look like swish cheese.

"_Where you ever a red-head? Cause' I feel like I know you."_

I do well to hide the sarcastic laugh that threatens to make its way up my diaphragm.

If he only knew. And that was probably the worst pick up line I had ever heard.

"_I have the feeling we'll be seeing each other again. I'll keep an eye on you."_

That was a truth, of the many things I'd ever said. He was an irritating guy, just meeting him that few times. I flirted dangerously, I know. I made sure to act like I didn't like him much, but talk like I really did. It worked, I think. And then...towards the end of our encounters, I realized that it became easier to do so without putting on much of a show. Natural, I guess. That should have been the first sign.

"_You know, you can tell a lot about a person by how they cut their hair.'_

I see him again, a few weeks later. I'd been putting it off, if we're honest with ourselves. Rivera was very persistent, however. I think Gibbs would understand his ways now.

Telling it to DiNozzo, it was very true too. Obviously Gibbs couldn't keep his marine background hidden if he tried. He cared for his country. On the edge of his desk sat a picture of he and what seemed to be a red-headed woman.

They were embracing intimately, obviously emotionally involved. It didn't say anything about a current wife in the file. And from heavy reading he probably didn't have a good relationship with any living divorcees.

I'd have to ask Rivera about that.

"_Get out of my chair."_

We bicker. I don't let down my guard and verbally spar with him because I want to see what he's made out of. He doesn't disappoint. We make eye contact there towards the end.

That's when I first realized how blue your eyes were.

You did well to hide it too, but I could already tell your eyes are like an open book.

And you tell Tony to let my client go. You really just want me gone.

And I understand. But you don't know I'll be back. I'll be back until the job is done.

And when it's done, there will be no letting go of anything.


	4. Of Stars and Cottage Cheese Ceilings

**Hey guys! This ends the story but there will be an epilogue! :) Anyway, took me an hour to write and Mom says, 'Get your A** off the computer.', so I gotta go! PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Alivia**

* * *

The spackled cottage cheese on my ceiling reminded me of stars.

I remember when I was young I would try and make shapes out of the chaos. You never really think about it, but what if, say, ten, of the little white dots somehow disappeared? Didn't go anywhere in particular , just left. And in its spot was a smooth white surface?

Wouldn't it look vacant? Wouldn't it look like something was just missing? The cottage cheese ceiling reminded me of stars in the blanket of night sky. What if some stars were missing?

The little cottage cheese dots reminded me of my childhood. Things I missed, but shouldn't have. Staring up at a ceiling, one hand draped across my stomach, while the other clutched my Blackberry for dear life, I felt more like pondering senseless Bull than actually facing my situation. Thinking about moral values didn't seem like much of a turn on right now, I guess.

My options were slightly limited. There was no way I could go through with one of them, I just couldn't fathom killing something that innocent. Giving things away has never been my forte either. Most would probably never consider me an emotional woman, but at this point facades and covers were the farthest from my mind. My hands shook.

There was only one other option.

Maybe this could work out. It wasn't looked down upon nowadays to do it alone. I was already very independent as it was. How hard could it be?

_"You never put the wrong guy away?"_

Everything was so confusing. I felt like I was in a concrete room that kept changing. He was supposed to be an easy assignment. He has become a man. They all have changed, that team I was supposed to research when I first took the damn job.

Ziva David. Ex-Mossad, now. Tough opponent in a physical battle. Raised by Eli David. Taught to kill first, feel second. I saw the way she looked at Tony Dinozzo. She's obviously a woman in love. But love is forbidden in her world, as I understand. What happened there?

Anothony Dinozzo. Party animal. Frat boy. Player. Was involved in serious deep cover operation while Jennifer Sheppard was still Director of NCIS. It went South, and from what I've understood from files, more than just a few street signs were broken. He is protective of his team. It shows clearly on his face when I inquired about his boss. His boss.

Timothy McGee. Didn't speak to that man too often, but I watched him from afar. Smart. Geeky. That's all you need to know. But, like Tony, I watched as he saw me sneaking around the bullpen. McGee smelled a rat.

"_And you never let the wrong guy get away?"_

Maybe I should tell him. Maybe I should just...no. I knew well enough to leave it be. No sense in forcing him into something like that. I knew him, in a way. He was an honorable man. If he knew about..it...there would be no stopping him from being apart of it s existence. Selfishly, I don't think I could take something like that happening. Nope, veto that decision.

_"Don't flatter yourself."_

_"You're standing in my house."_

I did not want it to end like this. In the perfect world, he would have never found out. In the perfect world, I might've just told him when I realized what he was. And who knows? We might've had something real together. But maybe and could've don't matter anymore.

The clock has struck twelve. I'm not a DA anymore. I'm just a woman who can't seem to stop screwing up things.

_"You're a failure Margaret Alison!"_

My head spun as I heaved once more into the toilet.

Father s were supposed to be loving. They were supposed to hold you when you cried and kiss boo-boo's. Mine was a bastard.

_"Just for once, don't lie to me!"_

His eyes were so blue then. A lone tear streaked down my pale cheek as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted to lie to him.

_"Do you care about Agent Gibbs?"_

My heart pounds in my ears as I walk through my carpeted bedroom, needing a release from my horrible reflection. I look up to see my gold vanity, and me, looking back. I just can't escape from anything now. The running has stopped. I can't avoid the situation I'm in.

The appointment with the doctor is scheduled, just to reconfirm my fate. Their fate, whoever 'they', is.

_"Yes."_

The little pink plus sign stared right up at me as I look on blurrily. I was never good with children. How could I?...my throat felt dry and I wanted to gasp for air even though my lungs were securely intact.

"Oh God." I hardly registered the words and unrecognizable sob which shook my body.

That was the moment I realized I loved Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

_"...and you just keep getting in the way."_

Life is just filled with misconceptions, isn't it?


	5. Of Life and Endings

**_I am crying. Yes, crying. Maybe it's from exhaustion. Maybe it's because this is the first multi-chapter story I didn't give up on. Epilogue can be a bit confusing, I guess. Didn't know what to name the child so she is often referred to as 'daughter' or 'the girl.' Sorry, I just liked the thought of being vague. Anyway, it's over. Go home! Nothing to see here anymore! lol. Actually, I've thought about doing another epilogue with MUCH more angst where M. Allison decided she could not go through with the preganancy. Anyone interested? PLEASE REVIEW. I know it's not fun to type a response, but REALLY. I even have anonymous reviewing. This is the last chapter so I want it to go out with a bang. Eight reviews. That's ALL I ask. Eight. But If you think I'm being too needy, just go about your daily read and I won't bother you any more. :) Alright. Bye, bye, Chickies!_**

**_Alivia Alise_**

* * *

This is how we end.

As the sun reaches it's highest point in the sky, basking in the glory of being regal and above all, it must also resolve to leaving each night, making warmth in another time and another place.

Margaret Allison Hart quits her job.

No longer a DA, she is unemployed and uncaring of what others may think. She visits the doctor for her monthly check-ups. She buys maternity clothes. She joins a yoga class just for pregnant women.

But she is alone.

And one night, she gets sick of it all. The city. The people. Swarming around her like one, hot, busy, organism. Constantly moving and polluting every breath she takes with lies.

Because everyone tells lies. She just reminds herself that it is here that the biggest ones have been told. This is not how she wishes for her unborn child to grow and live; with a mother who is obviously constantly reminded of regrets everywhere she looks. Allison needed a new beginning. A new life.

And so...she flees. What she's always done best. Yet this time is different. She is not as selfish as she used to be.

She packs her belongings. She gases the tank of her car. And she drives. She pays a toll. Stops at a quaint little bed and breakfast where the older couple at the front desk makes her give a small smile. Just at the sight of timeless happiness. And soon she winds up in the place she needs to be.

It's a quiet, little town, not too far from the ocean. With every breath you take you smell the sea and a light dew coats the air. It's peaceful here, settled. Though it may not feel like a home yet, it will soon. Everything just takes time.

She buys a house from an old, widowed man who says he's moving to the big city to be with his kids. His baby blue eyes have a thousand tiny creases surrounding them overlap when he smiles. He says that there were many good memories in the house, and 'sure to be more', while gesturing towards her rounded, swollen belly. She smiles back, a first real smile in what seems like forever to her, and nods.

She really does hope so too.

Eighteen years goes by.

And time goes by far too fast for her taste. She's almost retired now. In her early mid-fifties, her long dark hair is streaked with grey and her softened blue eyes have, like the elderly man's, developed fine laugh lines.

She bares them with pride.

After her only child, a daughter, had been born, she took a job as a receptionist at the small medical clinic in town. As she adjusted to the new setting she found it to be home and was welcomed with open arms by some of the natives.

She never married. And she never saw Leroy Jethro Gibbs again. But that's a bit of a lie, if you really sit back and think about it.

At just 18 years of age, the girl was extraordinary. She had the bluest eyes you'll ever seen.

As a child she was extremely curious, and sneaky too. She never cried as a baby and always strived to do her best in school. She was a hard worker, passionate, and never gave in if something was worth fighting for. As she grew into a teen a bit of a rebellious streak for authority made its show, but Allison had expected it.

The mother and daughter had fights ( more were sure to come), but in the end tears were dried and words made up. They were a family, though small, and nothing could ever tear them apart.

The young lady was going to community college in the fall, and still completely undecided on what her place in life was. And Allison was okay with that, unlike many overbearing parents out there.

You may wonder what Allison told her daughter when the subject of Daddy came up. It's simple really: The truth. Well, not the whole truth, until she was mature enough to understand, but the essentials: He was a good man. Life got in the way. That lead to the topic of how people make mistakes. And that lead to the whole truth, when she was older.

It was not a happy time when the girl first found out. A lamp was thrown across the room. A suitcase was sloppily packed as the emotional teen threw clothes into it hastily. She would find this man. She would know everything about him.

It was when she went to start the car that she discovered what would hold her back.

Nobody was stopping her.

And as she strode purposefully back into the house she found her mother on the couch. Just sitting, staring down at her lap and drumming her nails across the armrest. It infuriated her. Why didn't her mother care?

She must've said it out loud, as the woman in question looked up, startled. She'd never seen her mom look like this before, eyes glistening with unshed tears and cheeks flushed red with upset. The dull expression she saw made the sixteen year old succumb to a pang of guilt.

"If you want to know what he's like, if you want to see him, I can't stop you. I can't stop you and have you hate me for the rest of your life. I can't screw up, if I haven't already enough."

"I just want to know who he was. Really." The daughter tried hard to keep from looking desperate.

"Sweetie, even I could never figure that out. And he was the only man I ever truly tried to get to know." Allison's said wryly.

"You loved him?" The girl could not stop the question, curiosity manipulating all thoughts as she brushed a stray sandy brown lock away from her eyes.

Allison was quiet for a moment. It wasn't something she thought about too often anymore. The pain of the whole ordeal was so great...She cleared her throat. Her words were a mere whisper, but cleared previous doubts from the daughters mind.

"Yes...Yes, I did."

And that started the tale of Jethro Gibbs. The daughter listened attentively as Allison told her of the man who both infuriated her and tempted her. Soon both were fast asleep on the couch and not much was said on the topic again. From time to time she had a question, and Allison answered. And life went on.

Years later the girl will find him. It will be a slightly accidental meeting. Friends had taken her on spring break to Mexico as a treat for helping them pass their entrance exams to get into a few prestigious colleges. To which she says is no problem, just being a good friend.

A wrong turn, and they end up in the middle of nowhere. Beach after beach along coastlines they travel, soon out of gas, and out of luck, as it seems. A storm is heading their way. And it will eventually be a serious problem if no shelter is found.

The girl mumbles to herself in the backseat as her rambunctious friends start going into hysterics. Why is it only she finds herself in these situations? But that's when she spots it.

An abandoned shack, yet there is a porch and a chair, so maybe there is some civilization. Nothing is necessarily thought through as the three college girls make their way upthe steps of rotting wood. They could be stumbling into a drug lords hide out, the girl she thinks wryly. Only me.

But it's not. Two older men are there who offer the girls towels to dry off. Which alerts the wary one more, whereas the other two simply take what is given. Sarah, her most friendly companion, seems to have no problem explaining why they are there. And telling the unknown men their names.

Claire, the blonde, asks if they are 'together.' Which is when the older of the two lets out a few choice words he surely didn't learn in a classroom. The other lets out a chuckle, and though it's a simple action it warms her up to him a bit. "No," the silver haired man says, "Just a couple of old NCIS retirees."

That catches her attention. "Where?" It's a simple question.

"Excuse me?" He seems a tad confused, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Where are you from?" It frustrates her.

"D.C. Why?" He grew wary, she realized as he shot her a bit of a glare. Her breath caught in her throat. What if he knew...? The question rang shrilly through her mind as the rain pounded against the exterior of the beat down house.

"Would you happen to know a Jethro Gibbs?" It was the first time she'd ever been hesitant to ask a question in her life. He looked quite alarmed then, at her inquiry.

"You're looking at him." He said blatantly as he popped open a beer the other man had just sat down in front of him.

Her cheeks flamed. This was _him. _This was the man who...This was the man who she'd waited for years to meet. And then fear welled up inside her. What if he didn't remember Mom? What if? She gathered enough courage in order to deviate a good response that would hopefully open doors to a good future.

"You don't know me, but I know you. My name is..."

A decade later and things will have changed again.

The girl met a man while attending NYU, dated him for a few months, and when he proposed to her they moved to D.C. She got to walk down the aisle on the arm of her father.

But Margaret Allison Hart was no where to be found that day, except for in the girl's heart. A few years ago there had been a fatal car accident which had taken her mother's life, and she would never be able to truly get over the loss. The strongest woman she'd ever meet had touched many, and pissed off a lot too, which she would never be able to forget. But still, she had her father.

They spoke often and he visited on holidays. The relationship was complicated, but really, how couldn't it be? When it came to everything that had happened?

She was an art teacher at one of the private schools in the area, and lead a relatively peaceful life. She woke up early. Went for a run. Took a shower. Kissed her husband and drank a cup of coffee. Went to school. Ran errands. Made dinner. Shared household chores with husband. Kissed her husband some more. Slept. In between this basic schedule there was moments of spontaneity. The moments she would never forget.

Like the moment she realized she was three days late. Or the first time she looked into her daughters crystal blue eyes. The moment she realized change was inevitable. And the moment she realized life's true beauty.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs has a fulfilling life; filled with laughter and joy, and dies in peace.

As the circle of life repeats itself, everyone will be okay and life will go on.

And this, my dear friends, is how we end.


End file.
